


don't take my breath away too soon

by sofarsoperfect



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Kissing, M/M, Post-NCT 2020 Beyond Live, Sharing a Bed, The Concept of Missing Someone, clothing sharing, sleeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:35:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28899738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sofarsoperfect/pseuds/sofarsoperfect
Summary: Kun’s arms are free to wrap around Johnny and they do, petting down his back, long and slow movements that could lull Johnny into sleep if he wasn’t so exhilarated with excitement and adrenaline and happiness. The show was so fun and energetic and sharing a stage with them all was so special that going to bed feels like the end of it all. Like if he falls asleep he really has to start saying goodbye to the NCT 2020 era and he’s not sure he’s ready to do that yet.
Relationships: Suh Youngho | Johnny/Qian Kun
Comments: 16
Kudos: 118





	don't take my breath away too soon

**Author's Note:**

> *title: dpr live - kiss me  
> *unbeta'd

It’s three in the morning and Johnny still feels wired. They have to go to bed. They still have fan calls and meetings and some of their units have pre-comeback schedules and SM is still planning things for the Japanese comeback. Everyone needs to go to bed but they’re all still so awake even though the concert ended hours ago. They’ve been lying on top of each other and talking and being loud ever since they all piled into the 5th floor dorms, too many boys for a dorm only meant to house five people. 

Taeyong looks happy to be so surrounded by these boys even though he’s been put on mandatory bedrest and has long since grabbed the nearest Dreamie and put them in his lap (Chenle has been the chosen the sacrifice for at least an hour now). Everyone is sitting on top of each other, casually crushing each other on the sofa and the loveseat and even on the floor even though it’s entirely unnecessary. There are boys on top of boys all over the place, Hendery is sitting on Jungwoo and Sungchan is being passed between Doyoung and Sicheng. Yuta is wrapped around Mark, as per usual and Yukhei, Shotaro and Jaemin are all lying on top of one another on the floor. 

No one sleeps where they’re supposed to that night except for the 127 boys because when they break into halfsies one group is rumbling up the stairs and ducking into the elevator to crash in the 10th floor dorm instead of where they’re supposed to go. A handful of boys remain in the 5th floor dorm, the managers and aunties all shooing them to at least try and get some sleep. 

Johnny still feels light and bubbly and too awake to ever try to sleep as he slides between his blankets and he knows it’s the only one because he can hear giggles under the blankets of Donghyuck’s bed, three voices he knows now, all trying to hush each other, crammed together despite the size of the bed. Johnny smiles to himself as he scoots down into the sheets, pulling the blankets up to his chin even though he will not be sleeping for a while yet. 

It can only be a few minutes later that someone is pawing at the blankets and worming their way into Johnny’s blankets with him. He doesn’t fight the form, the person wiggling and squirming their way into Johnny’s queen sized bed. It’s a little too small for him because he’s so tall but it’s wide enough that another person can lie here without it being too terribly uncomfortable. This person is broad though, with side shoulders and hips and thick thighs that bump into Johnny’s and Johnny scoots to the other side of the bed as they get in close, settling down on the side of the bed closest to the door. 

It’s too dark in here to see much so it takes his eyes a second to adjust but when they do he can see the little light that exists reflecting off of white blond hair and those wide shoulders and hips make sense. He reaches out under the blankets, wrapping his long arms around his middle and Kun turns onto his side, falling into Johnny’s seeking arms, smothering giggles into Johnny’s sleep shirt. 

He’s still wearing a hoodie, the zipper pressing coldly against Johnny’s chest through the thin material of his baseball shirt. Under the hoodie he’s wearing a thin muscle shirt and he’s got a pair of sweatpants on. Johnny knows all this because it’s what he showed up to the shooting space in. All of them showed up to the shooting space in varying states of underdress because they were all going to be primped and prodded and shoved into performance outfits anyway. Real clothing wasn’t important and Johnny has been wearing these exact same black joggers all day for that reason exactly. Johnny ducks his face down into Kun’s neck and the familiar softness of the gray hoodie rubs against his cheek as he nuzzles in close. 

This hoodie isn’t Kun’s. Technically, it is now, but before, long before, two years ago or so, it wasn’t. It was Johnny’s, that he wore all the way to Japan and wore all around Osaka for the SM Town show. Most of the clothes they wore, to the airport and at the show, they were all clothes they were meant to wear from the stylists, but of the few clothing items that were actually their own, Johnny had brought this hoodie and he had almost left it behind in the hotel room back in Osaka. He knows this hoodie, the burn from a busted lighter when he was a trainee on the cuff of the right sleeve, the busted seam on the left shoulder. He knew it then, looked all over the 127 dorm for it and figured it was lost forever back in Japan when he couldn’t find it, and knows it now, from the very second he saw Kun wearing it during one of their full group rehearsals. 

The hoodie fits Kun a lot better now than it probably did before. Kun is broader now, filled out in the shoulders, chest, arms, but the sleeves are still just a little too long because Johnny has stupid long, gumby limbs and the longest torse known to man. The sleeves reveal only the last knuckle of his fingers when he lets them hang free and the torso is baggy around his own but he wears it all the same. Says it’s cozy but when his eyes met Johnny’s the first time he saw it, Johnny knew. 

And Kun knew that Johnny knew. 

“I want my hoodie back,” Johnny mumbles into Kun’s neck. Kun’s arms are free to wrap around Johnny and they do, petting down his back, long and slow movements that could lull Johnny into sleep if he wasn’t so exhilarated with excitement and adrenaline and happiness. The show was so fun and energetic and sharing a stage with them all was so special that going to bed feels like the end of it all. Like if he falls asleep he really has to start saying goodbye to the NCT 2020 era and he’s not sure he’s ready to do that yet. 

“Then you have to give me one of yours,” Kun replies, his beautiful voice muttering in Johnny’s ear. It makes tingles and shivers and sparks shoot down his spine, the lovely low tone and comforting quality of it, rumbling in his ear. “It’s a fair trade off.” 

“This was my hoodie first,” Johnny reminds him. His cheek rubs against the hood and he squeezes Kun around the middle just a little bit. His voice isn’t petulant but it’s close, just a little bit whiny as his hands rest low on Kun’s back, almost at his ass but not quite. It’s not indecent, there are other people in this room after all, but he can fist his hands in the material that bunches at Kun’s hips because it’s still just a little too big. “I want it back.” 

“No,” Kun says simply. “Only if I get one of yours. I like this hoodie.” He mumbles it like it’s a secret, and maybe it is. Johnny holds Kun close like one might hold a teddy bear, a plushie they cherish and love and need to sleep at night. Kun doesn’t protest, curls in closer. Their legs tangle in the blankets and between each other, Kun’s leg between Johnny’s and Johnny’s between Kun’s, the ends of the blankets wrapped around their ankles and Kun’s knee hooked around the back of Johnny’s. Pressed so close their hips are flush and Kun lifts his chin to press his lips to Johnny’s shoulder where he knows flowers blossom and grow, inked prettily into the skin there. 

Johnny wants this hoodie because it smells like Kun. He’ll never say it out loud but it’s not about the fabric, tumbled soft and worn from so many washes. It’s not about the sentimentality of what this hoodie has, a burn from his trainee days and seam in the shoulder that’s about to unravel. He can find any ol’ hoodie of his, burn it and pluck the seam and wear it around; would be like he never even lost it. But no other hoodie is going to be steeped in the scene of Kun, his detergent and his cologne and his shampoo and his singular own scent that no one else is going to have. Johnny wants this hoodie because Kun got it when it was smelling of Tom Ford and clean linen dryer sheets and spiced orange shampoo and Johnny and Johnny wants it back. 

He wants Kun to return the favor. To give him what he got because Kun got a hoodie and Johnny got static-y phone calls with Ten while Kun yelled hello in the background, facetimes where Ten would turn the phone around and make whoever was in frame wave and scream hellos. Johnny got memories of hotel beds pushed together and mumbled Chinese because despite what Kun said Johnny’s Chinese could still always have been better (it’s really not very good now) when they should’ve been sleeping. While Kun got a whole hoodie Johnny was left with empty air and thoughts and what-ifs and should-have-beens. 

And now he has Kun, whole and entire, in his bed, curled around him like Kun is his own personal plush bear and he never wants to let him go. Not when Kun’s mouth is pressed to his shoulder and Kun’s legs are tangled with his and Kun’s hands are running up and down his back slowly, softly, as though to lull him to sleep but Johnny doesn’t want to sleep. Doesn’t want to let this night end. 

“I miss you,” Johnny mumbles into Kun’s neck and Kun hums. It’s a cyclical thing, the way Kun hums soft vibrations into Johnny’s shoulder so Johnny presses soft, chaste kisses to the skin of Kun’s neck and Kun hums and it goes around and around, touching and feeling, kissing and humming. Johnny lets his eyes flutter shut in the dark, enveloped by the warmth of Kun’s arms around him. 

“I thought we agreed not to miss each other,” Kun says and Johnny shifts further down into his pillows. Kun moves with him as he does so and ends up halfway on top of Johnny as Johnny lies down. His hands leave Johnny’s back and instead go for the bunched up blanket, pulling it up over them. It’s even darker, somehow, under the cover of the blankets but it’s nice. Their own little fort that, once Kun has pulled the blanket up all the way and then settled back down, arms framing Johnny’s head, is nice. Quiet with just the sound of their breathing, the giggles they can still hear through the two layers of blanket coming from Donghyuck’s bed. Their own little world. 

“I know,” Johnny admits. Like this he doesn’t have an option but to pull away from Kun’s neck and meet his eyes. It’s so unbelievably dark he can barely make out anything so he reluctantly removes an arm, only one because the thinks somewhere in the stupid, illogical part of his brain, that if he lets go of Kun he’s going to float away or something, to touch Kun’s cheek. He maps out the space of his cheek, the height of his nose, the length of his bridge, the space between his eyes, the depth of his sockets, coming back down to the plush of his lips. But Kun’s eyes remain fixed on his, letting Johnny touch as his own fingers carefully brush the stray strands of hair away from Johnny’s face. “I just can’t help it,” Johnny sighs. 

NCT 2018 was temporary. They knew it then and they made the agreement, when they were roommates, that after it was all said and done, they weren’t going to miss each other. Because what was to be gained from missing each other? Johnny could miss Ten all he wanted, Sicheng even, but Johnny wasn’t allowed to miss Kun because why should he? So they agreed, Johnny wasn’t to miss Kun and Kun wasn’t to miss Johnny and even when they started working together for NCT 2020 the agreement remained in place. They aren’t supposed to miss each other because what was there to miss? 

Especially if they didn’t have anything to begin with. 

So what went wrong? 

“Your sentimentality will be the death of you, John,” Kun sighs. His own fingers trail down the side of Johnny’s face, cupping his cheek gently. “You should stop missing me while you have the chance. Because what happens when it all goes back?” He asks. 

“I miss you even more,” Johnny confesses. “But I think we both knew that.” 

Kun leans that final little distance that separates them to press their lips together. Long, slow kisses that fill distances. The distance between Chicago and Fujian closes like they’re neighbors, states and countries and landmasses and oceans, folding end over end like sheets, pulling them closer together. Johnny’s hands both move to his back, sliding under his hoodie and his tank to trail up Kun’s back, kilometers narrowing down to centimeters, millimeters as they learn each other’s languages from tongue alone. Kun shifts up to lean over, cupping both of Johnny’s cheeks as though with more concentration, more focus and energy, it will dredge up all the thoughts he needs to know, the taste of Johnny’s culture thick and rich, teaching all Kun ever needs to know to satisfy him.

Under the thick comforter, the duvet that closes in on them warm and soft on a freezing cold night they let themselves miss. Johnny and Kun miss each other, break a two year and some month old promise that missing will only lead to heartache because it does. And they both know it, but it’s worth it to taste the kisses they share, the learn how the other kisses, how their mouths fit together, soft lips against soft lips. Kun drinks in the soft hums from Johnny’s lips as he kisses down into his mouth while Johnny’s tongue commits to memory the shape of Kun’s teeth, the corners of his mouth like he’ll never get this chance again. 

And maybe he won’t. His future is uncertain. Their futures are uncertain. As is the job of being famous, that another group might come along and sweep all you’ve worked for out from under you. They could tumble into obscurity in a day, a week, a month, a year and they will have nothing left to clutch to other than each other. And Johnny learns how to clutch, fingers moving to hold tight to Kun’s hips, ankles hooking between tangles of blankets to grasp Kun’s. Just the same Kun holds tight to him, fingers on his jaw, his cheek, lips pressing slow, deep kisses to his lips, their partings soft and sweet, the humid sounds that only last moments before their kissing again, lips meeting like it’s all they have to do at this hour. 

At some point, the giggles from the next bed over peter out and it is just them, their own little world, the press of lips and the touch of hands and desperation that seeps out from their bones, through their skin, past layers of fabric meant to keep it at bay and right into each other, feeding into one another, keeping them needy and their touches urgent, unable to stop touching each other. They touch with intention but not desire, the indiscernible need to know the others is below them, above them, with them, hands learning and exploring and when Johnny’s reaches high on Kun’s waist, large hand spanning the side of his ribcage, Kun reaches down and threads their fingers together, only for them to land next to them on the bed. 

And there it stays, Kun’s smaller hand in Johnny’s bigger one, long fingers wrapped up in each other’s, unwilling to let go. They kiss until they can no longer, their own stamina draining on them and Kun is left pecking sweet little presses of lips to Johnny’s, exhaustion racing up on them in the wake of a long day. 

The time is uncertain but Kun settles down, head on Johnny’s chest and Johnny’s hand fists the material that lies bunched up on Kun’s hip. Their hands are threaded, their breathing in sync and they fall asleep like that, tangled and sated. 

“Johnny!” A voice shouts. 

Johnny turns his face down into the neck of the person he’s spooned up against, lying on his side. His fingers are tangled in Kun’s and his foot is numb where his ankle is wrapped around Kun’s ankle. There are people thundering down the hallway, he can hear their heavy footsteps through his sleepy haze and he tightens his hold on Kun, getting a sleepy groan in reply from his teddy bear. 

“Johnny?” Kun mumbles. Johnny shakes his head the little he can with his face in Kun’s neck, pressing his lips there in his sleepy haze. Kun wiggles a little bit in his hold and he whines into Kun’s neck, a sleepy little chuckle meeting his ears as Kun finally get free from his pressing arms to turn around. Johnny’s face resumes its place in his neck and Kun can press his lips to Johnny’s shoulder once more, arms slipping around Johnny to press cold fingers to the warm skin of Johnny’s back, causing him to shiver. Kun mumbles an apology as his eyes slip closed again. 

“Is Kun in there?” The voice calls, thumping on the door. 

“G’ ‘way,” Johnny mumbles into Kun’s neck and Kun chuckles softly. 

“Yes,” Kun says, raising his voice to be heard. “We’re still sleeping,” he tells them and there are giggles coming from the other side of the door. They don’t pay them any mind and they settle down into each other, Kun’s face in Johnny’s shoulder once more and Johnny’s mouth still pressed to Kun’s neck. At this position Johnny can feel every thumping heartbeat in Kun’s jugular against the lips, the constant beat reminding him that Kun is right here, real and alive, in his arms. 

“We can’t hide here forever,” Kun says even as the sound of giggles and footsteps fade away. 

“Why not?” Johnny whines petulantly. Kun runs his fingers through Johnny’s hair. It clumps together with grease and left over product and Kun thinks about a shower. They could probably all use a shower and he entertains the idea of getting to steal one with Johnny. 

“Because how will you miss me otherwise?” 

“I always miss you,” he murmurs and Kun’s heart clenches. He lowers his hand to find Johnny’s, threading their fingers together again. “I don’t like this agreement we made because it’s never really worked out for me, y’know,” Johnny says into his neck. His lips brush the skin of Kun’s neck when he speaks and Kun’s eyes flutter with every brush, skin still touch sensitive after just waking up. “I missed you anyway. So I think you owe me something.” 

“What?” Kun asks, tilting his head down to press a kiss to the exposed skin by Johnny’s collar. 

“I want the hoodie. And I’ll give you one of mine because it doesn’t smell like me anymore, does it?” Johnny asks and Kun snorts softly. 

“No. It doesn’t.” 

Leaving the bed still doesn’t happen for a long time, and by the time they do they do so by creeping across the hallway and into the bathroom, giggling as they lock everyone else out. Johnny lends Kun one of his towels and some sweats, which he doesn’t think he’ll be getting back, and swipes the worn hoodie to wear it around the house while handing Kun one of his own. This one is a gray pullover and it fits even larger than the last one, swallowing Kun’s hands completely. Johnny has this feeling that if Kun was to be wearing just the hoodie it would end somewhere around the tops of his thighs and he has to forcibly remove the thought from his head before it gets too far away from him. 

It’s well past noon, as Doyoung so pleasantly informs them, when they finally emerge from the bedroom. Yangyang, Renjun and Donghyuck are all sitting at the table and Taeyong and Xiaojun are nursing coffees at the counter. Johnny hasn’t the slightest idea what Doyoung is all up in arms about considering not a one of them look remotely awake but he presses his fingers into Doyoung’s side, tickling him a little, to get to his french press, which makes Taeyong sigh. 

“Fancy coffee man,” Kun picks on him, headed for the kettle still full of hot water. 

“And maybe I am,” Johnny replies. Kun manages to get hot water over his tea bag but Johnny wraps him around the waist, reeling him in. No one in the kitchen even flinches as Johnny’s lips press to Kun’s cheek, ghosting over his ear. “What about it?” He mumbles, voice low. Kun shoves at his shoulder, careful not to spill his hot tea and Johnny chuckles softly. “Don’t spill,” he tells him. 

“Yeah, okay,” Kun replies, finally being released from Johnny’s grasp to sit at the table with the others. 

When the others have to leave, eventually, they do so rather reluctantly. It’s not as though they won’t see each other again, but their schedules together post this era will be few and far between. Yangyang hugs Donghyuck for far longer than Kun expected and Doyoung holds Xiaojun around the middle until the very last second. Kun bundles up in the hoodie as he waits for them to say their goodbyes by the door, hands stuffed in the front pocket and rocking back and forth softly. Johnny comes over to meet him as they’re all saying goodbye. The others will be meeting them in the lobby of the building so they can carpool back. 

“I’ll miss you,” Johnny says, almost like a warning. A careful statement to inform Kun that things are different. That despite their arrangement and agreement two years ago that it’s not the same. All through promotions a careful line drawn and in a single night it crumbles down, forcing them both to confront the fact that missing someone is a human thing and that you can’t just turn it off. Even if Kun said he wasn’t going to it was clear he did and it only took Johnny telling him for him to realize it. Sometimes, it’s okay to miss someone even if it doesn’t seem worth it. 

Because that’s how someone knows you care. 

“I know,” Kun replies. “I’ll miss you too, hyung.” Johnny smiles gently at him. “But you know the WayV dorm isn’t far, right?” He says, voice hesitant, like he’s not quite sure how far he’s allowed to push it. 

“I know. Ten keeps trying to invite me over,” Johnny replies, voice casual. Kun rolls his eyes, leaning against the door jam. Johnny elbows him gently in the side. “I’ll come by.” 

“I’ll make dinner,” Kun says easily. 

The cars are waiting and they all leave the 127 dorms eventually, warm hugs and promises to visit more often. They don’t really have much of a choice now, all this time and promotion spent together, too many friendships and bonds formed. When Kun leaves he steals one last kiss to Johnny’s cheek before heading out the door, Johnny huffing as he buries his nose into the neckline of the hoodie. 

There’s a burn on the right sleeve from a broken lighter during his trainee days and a busted seam on the left shoulder. It’s grey and soft and worn from so many tumbles through washers and dryers. But it smells like warm, herbal cologne and color-treat shampoo and jasmine dryer sheets and Kun and that’s enough. For right now, it’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> [twt](https://twitter.com/sofarsoperfect)   
>  [cc](https://curiouscat.me/sofarsoperfect)


End file.
